


To Honour And Obey

by such_heights



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Authority Figures, Community: kink_bingo, D/s, F/M, Military Roleplay, Obedience, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:18:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/such_heights/pseuds/such_heights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Gorgeous woman in a suit giving me orders? Yeah, that worked for me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Honour And Obey

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime between 6x13 and 7x01. Written for the 'obedience' square on my kink bingo card.

"I have a question," Amy says.

They're upstairs, putting clean sheets on the bed. Rory is listening, but he's also concentrating on trying to match buttons to buttonholes so the bottom of the duvet doesn't end up being a squished-up mess like the last time, and he's wondering whether there's anything good on TV, so Amy doesn't really have his full attention.

"About that other reality," she continues. "The 5:02 world, when we were secret agent soldier types."

That gets Rory's attention. His memories of that world feel strange, pressed together in the same way that the time was, there, a flash of pain and duty and the universe making and unmaking itself.

"Oh?" he asks.

"Did you fancy me? We didn't remember each other - we hardly knew each other, really - and I was wondering."

Rory looks at her for a second. Amy's expression is curious and a bit amused, and besides, she's not the fishing for compliments type. 

"Well, yeah," he says. "Obviously. Didn't you know?" He remembers all too well what it's like to carry a torch for Amy - hello, his entire adolescence - but in that other world it was different. Less awkward teenager, and more of a soldier's devotion, sworn to carry out her orders and protect her at all costs. In both cases, his feelings had been obvious to everyone but Amy.

She shakes her head. "I had no idea. Tell me."

Rory tries to remember what it felt like as he straightens out pillows. "You were this - force of nature, I guess. You just barrelled your way into my quite boring life and asked me to come help you save the world. I thought you were the most incredible person I'd ever met."

"Oh." Amy looks down and blushes, smiling.

"Seems like some things never change, no matter what universe we're in. Besides, gorgeous woman in a suit giving me orders? Yeah, that worked for me."

Amy grins, and meets his eye again. "Mm, yes, my obedient soldier. I won't lie, I might have had a daydream or two about shagging your brains out on that desk I had."

"Oh really?"

"You know how I feel about a man in uniform."

Rory ducks his head, focusing on pulling the duvet straight as Amy watches him. Even after two years of marriage and a lifetime of knowing her, the intensity of the full force of Amy's attention can still feel a little overwhelming. In a good way. Definitely in a good way. He glances up at her and her eyes narrow, considering, as she tilts her head and looks him up and down.

"What are you plotting? Should I be nervous?" he asks.

"You'll have to wait and see," she says. "Wednesday's your next day off, right? Don't make plans on Tuesday, then. It's date night."

"I'm guessing you're not thinking dinner and a film," says Rory.

"No, not as such."

Amy's clearly a woman with a mission now, and Rory can guess what it is just enough that warm anticipation blooms in his chest. She does always have the best ideas.

*

On Tuesday morning, he wakes up with butterflies fluttering inside him. Not a bad feeling, not at all, but it's hard to concentrate as he gets ready for work. Amy watches him from bed, her smile smug and satisfied. She does do him the kindness of pointing out that he's tucked his trousers into his socks, though.

Work is, as ever, hectic enough that all future plans fall right out of his mind - he's too busy dashing around the perennially understaffed hospital to think about where he's meant to be in the next hour, let alone anything further ahead. But when he finally clocks off and finds himself back in the locker room, he remembers the evening's plans and there's a whole sudden rush of excitement and curiosity.

They play a lot of games, Amy and him. Their wardrobes and cupboards are full of clothes and objects they've picked up from dozens of different times and places. Fancy dress had been a big feature even before the TARDIS, of course - games of Raggedy Doctor gradually shifting into ever-racier editions of Doctors and Nurses. The first time they kissed they were at a fancy dress party, roped into doing the Macarena until Rory tripped over his own sheet, a rather poor attempt at being a ghost, and fell right into Amy the vampire's arms.

It's fun, and it's freeing, too - it's easier for him to say that he wants certain things when he's pretending to be someone else. It's also reassurance - whenever, wherever, and whoever they are, they come back to each other. It doesn't matter whether they're soldiers or pirates or anything else, they're still them, and they always find their way back to each other. 

And it's comforting to know he can take it off at the end of it all, too, that when the scene's over he can put away the persona and just be Rory again.

Then he's reaching their house and fumbling for his keys and he figures that really, that's quite enough philosophical ruminating about his sex life.

The house is quiet when he steps into the hall and shuts the door behind him. There are a few lights on, but none in the living room, where Amy normally is this time of night. There's a note on the table under the key rack.

_I'm in the study. Clothes for you upstairs. Come knock on the door when you're ready. X_

Rory swallows. He kicks off his shoes, hangs up his bag and his jacket, and takes the stairs two at a time.

There's a black military uniform spread out on the bed. It's almost identical to what he wore in that other world, and he's impressed at Amy's resourcefulness. Mercifully, there's no eyepatch.

He forces himself to take a breath, and take his time. There's no rush. He wants to do this properly.

He strips off and takes a quick shower, scrubbing away the smell of hospital and the stresses of the day. The water is calming as it thuds against his shoulders, and he takes a few slow, deep breaths. He starts to think back, reaching for memories of a world without time. 

Things like this always make him nervous - he's afraid of losing himself. But this isn't like trying to find his inner Roman, which he hopes never to have cause to do again, because there's so much of that buried in his head, enough to overwhelm him. 

There's not enough of Captain Williams for that to happen. That was a dream, and he isn't frightened of dreams. You can always win against dreams, even when they have cold stars and murderous pensioners. 

Being Captain Williams was a good dream, though. Anxieties and awkwardness gave way to bravery and clarity of purpose. He pledged himself to Amelia Pond, believed in her cause, and followed her to the ends of the earth. 

All of which is always more or less true - he can't imagine a world where he wouldn't follow Amy wherever she led him - but reality is messier, more complicated. And much better, but nonetheless. It feels good to slip back into that simplicity, and he feels that identity rising up in him as he gets dressed. Regulation everything, right down to his socks. As he pulls on each thing he feels himself straightening up, slipping into a different frame of mind. He's quick and efficient as he straps on his thigh holsters, doing up the fastenings with practised ease. 

He'd forgotten how heavy it all was - the shirt, the bulletproof vest. It's not much compared to the centurion uniform but the weight is noticeable. It grounds him, focusing the mind. 

It's a thrill to know that Amy wants him like this. He hopes he can fulfil whatever fantasy she intends to play out tonight.

He walks down to the study and knocks smartly on the door.

"Enter!" Amy calls out, clipped and sharp.

He swallows, takes a moment to straighten up, and walks inside.

Amy is sitting in their leather armchair, looking poised and authoritative. She's dressed for the occasion, in a black trouser suit he didn't know she owned. She looks just like how he remembers from the other world. Her hair falls in front of her shoulders in loose, thick ringlets, and her mouth is red and lush. The suit's well made, tracing out her figure. The full impact leaves him unable to speak, and he stands there for a long, silent moment while she watches him. 

He snaps his mouth shut. She smirks, pleased with herself, then forces her expression into a kind of wry blankness that is very familiar from that world. 

"Captain Williams," she says, curt and formal. 

He clasps his hands behind his back, staring straight ahead. "Evening, ma'am."

"You've been an exceptional soldier, Captain. My right hand. You should be commended."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"I think you deserve a reward. Come here, let me see you."

He walks into the light, circling slowly. She eyes him, an appreciative smile on her face. 

"Very good indeed," she says. 

She crooks a finger and beckons him forward. He goes gladly, completely in her hands. 

"Here's your next order - kiss me," she says.

She wraps a hand around his neck and pulls him in for a slow, searching kiss. He keeps his hands clasped behind his back as her tongue sweeps into his mouth, claiming him for her own, and he opens up for her.

Still kissing him, she reaches to undo her trousers, pushing them out of the way. She pulls back and looks at him, her eyes dark with need, and puts her hands on his shoulders.

"On your knees, soldier."

He is so happy to comply. Her hands are still on him as he drops to the floor, bowing his head in automatic deference, and she cups his cheek with unexpected sweetness and guides him to her. 

"What would you like me to do?" he asks.

"Touch me. Lick me." She strokes his cheek. "That's an order," she says, with a gentleness that makes him shudder. 

"Yes," he says, resting his hands on her thighs, slowly running his fingers along her soft skin. "I've wanted to do this for a very long time."

"Then stop talking and get to it," she says, and though he can't see her face he can hear the smile in it.

He pushes her knees a little further apart and she wraps her legs around him, pulling him in. He opens his mouth and breathes her in, intoxicated, then starts to lick his way into her. He mouths at her folds, tasting how wet she is, how much this is getting her off. He pushes his tongue as far inside her as he can manage and she groans, a rich, gorgeous noise.

"God, you're good," she says. "We could have been doing this forever. I could have had you tucked away under my desk, going down on me while I was doing paperwork. I'd order you to fuck me against a wall after missions, after debriefs - whenever I wanted. And you would, wouldn't you. You'd obey any order, do anything I asked of you."

Rory pulls back, just for a moment, just to look at her face. "Always."

She sighs happily and lets her head fall back, and he pours himself back into her, paying attention to every part of her he can reach. He runs his hands along her thighs, her hips, her stomach, and swirls his tongue around her clit in tight circles. 

She grasps at his shoulders, her noises getting louder. "Make me come."

He works her entrance until she's open wide, makes her moan and gasp and clench around him. When her orgasm hits, the feel and taste of her is overwhelming, and she shudders around him, holding him in place with her legs and her hands. He stays exactly where he is and eases her through it, touching her gently as her breathing slows down again. He looks up and is gratified to see the way that her skin glows and her cheeks are flushed.

She leans forward, bending down so she can kiss him, and she makes a delighted noise as she tastes his slick, wet, swollen mouth. She draws him up, makes him kneel up straight, and slides a leg between his, rocking against his cock, hard and aching in his trousers.

"Come for me now," she says, suddenly sounding business-like again. "Quick as you like, come on."

He laughs shakily. "Yes, ma'am."

It doesn't take long, not when Amy's surrounding him like this, whispering in his ear and rubbing against him and kissing him. The world whites out as he spills over, still fully dressed, and it's some of the best sex he's ever had.

Afterwards, exhaustion hits him like a wave, and he rests his head in her lap and lets himself drift while she runs his fingers through his hair.

"So," she says eventually, "good date?"

"Feel free to order me around any time," he says dreamily.

That makes her laugh, and she kisses the top of his head. "Duly noted."


End file.
